Roulette
by pdljmpr6
Summary: Eliot doesn't like guns. He doesn't like substances that make you lose control. He doesn't like guys that beat their kids. There is a correlation, but it's not what everyone thinks. Eliotcentric dark oneshot. Rated for language, drugs, violence


**A/N:** So this fic popped into my head when listening to the song _**Russian Roulette **_by **_Rihanna_**. It felt like Eliot to me. And, just like the song, it came out very dark and sad but I think 'dark and sad' work for Eliot. It is the first, and probably last, M that I have written, but I hope to hear what you thought. Enjoy. -pj

**Warnings**: Bad language, underage drinking, drug use, gunplay/violence/minor character death, implied child abuse

**Disclaimer**: Eliot's not mine, neither is the game Russian Roulette or probably much else mentioned in this fic. I do not practice or condone ANY of the things the characters in this fic are participating in. Also, I don't know anything about criminal law or the judicial system, everything I know I learned from NCIS and Law&Order, any mistakes are mine.

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Eliot inhaled, slow and deep. Honestly, this was his favorite part of the day. Of everyday. Not so much so that he couldn't wait to get out of class, though he couldn't. Not so much that it was all he thought about all day long, but when he knew the others would be heading to the old, abandoned airplane hanger at the edge of the base afterschool his heart rate always quickened a few beats with excitement.

Because being here, breaking every rule he'd ever been given, allowed him to _stop _thinking.

And _God_ did he want to stop thinking.

Beside him Craig was nursing a beer and rubbing his puffy red eyes, looking dangerously close to tears.

"You guys! I have a research paper that is like…" he paused as if he'd lost his train of thought. "I has to be like a _huuundred _pages long guys. I haven't even started it," he ended with a giggle.

From Eliot's other side, laying on a decrepit old couch that had been there longer than they remembered, Danny rolled his head back and forth, one arm flopped up across the back of the couch, one dangling to the floor beside him.

"You've _always _got a research paper or some shit you're workin' on man," h said, sounding unimpressed with Craig's predicament. He adjusted slightly so a busted spring didn't press so deeply into his back.

Beside Danny on the couch Cheyenne pushed bleach blonde hair out of her face, revealing a layer of black beneath and then shoved Danny's legs off her lap, causing him to fall to the floor. This made her laugh hysterically upon seeing the deep red flush of his face.

"Why'd you do that Chey?" He demanded, throwing himself back up onto the couch, "bitch."

She laughed again and shifted to push her blunt into his hand, causing her jean miniskirt to ride up and show the curve of her bottom, "just smoke and shut up. You're such a sensitive fuck when you're high."

Eliot's eyes drifted lazily to the girl sitting directly across from him. Anna was a year younger than the rest of them, only sixteen, and probably the only one of them that didn't look like she was trying to fit into some teenage stereotype.

Cheyenne was the typical ABD. Army Brat Disgrace, complete with chipped nail polish, too much eye makeup and a filthy mouth. Eliot had never seen her in an outfit that didn't reveal too much skin and her footwear always consisted of black boots and thigh high socks. Cheyenne was pissed at the world and everyone knew it. Eliot didn't judge her. He knew it was bad enough to have one parent deployed, let alone two.

Danny was the bad boy, or at least he liked to think he was. He was always angry, even when high, which Eliot couldn't quite wrap his mind around. The way he heard it, Danny's parents had split a couple years before, though the divorce drug out, long and ugly for over a year after that. It ended up with Danny's mother in the wind and his father sharing their house with his secretary/girlfriend and Danny doing anything and everything he could to either get thrown out, kicked out or knocked out.

If he didn't shut up soon Eliot was going to help him with that last one. The tall boy was grumbling under his breath almost nonstop now, even as Cheyenne shifted her hand against his thigh.

Craig was typical too. Yellow polo shirt, khakis, brown Dockers and a 4.0, Craig was the classic overachieving son of a hard ass General. He was the first one Eliot had met when his father got transferred to this base. He'd seemed nice enough, if not a little bit annoying and high strung. But he'd introduced him to Danny and Chey and Anna, so Eliot thought he was probably okay.

Eliot knew exactly what he was. Eliot was unremarkable. Everything about him, with the exception of sharp blue eyes, was made to be forgettable. From his small 5'10 stature to his quiet, low voice to his jeans, t-shirt wardrobe and shaggy brown hair. He was unmemorable. He liked it that way. It was easy to stay unattached if nobody noticed him. And with as often as he found himself moving on account of his dad's job, unattached was definitely what Eliot wanted.

But Anna…Anna was different than all the rest of them. She was like Eliot in that she was small for her age. Pale, thin and a bit frail-looking if Eliot thought about it. Long, dark brown hair and almost too big, brown eyes, she looked more like a doll than a person. She had a small tattoo of a butterfly on the inside of her wrist and he would sometimes see her rubbing it with this far off look in her eye. He never asked about it.

Anna never talked much, and the others seemed content to leave her in her silence, so Eliot was too. She could out drink all of them, though, and smoke three blunts before she even cracked a smile.

One time she smoked four and ended up in a dark corner of the hanger, rocking back and forth and crying, mumbling unintelligibly. Eliot had stayed with her until she came back down and made the mistake of asking her if she was okay. He didn't remember what she'd said, only that it had been a lie. But he'd drank an entire six pack that night trying to forget the cold, dead look in her eyes.

She never smoked more than three after that.

Eliot closed his eyes, silently berating himself. He'd come here to _stop _thinking, hadn't he?

He brought the small, white wrapped blunt to his lips again, letting the last dark, buzzing recesses of his mind slow down. Relax.

He smiled. He wasn't sure why, but it felt right.

Right now. This was the part he liked. His head didn't hurt now and he didn't have that tight feeling in his chest that made him want to punch the next person who looked his way. He didn't have to worry about whether or not his mother was crying. Didn't hate the fact that this would be his last home until he moved out. Didn't have to think about how fucked up it was that he'd spent his whole life hating moving around and now he hated standing still.

Right no he didn't have to face the fact that his father wouldn't be there when he got home. That he would never be there again.

The mangled car wreck that had claimed him two months before had made sure of that.

Eliot opened his eyes again, tracking specs of dust that floated by on the sunbeams with slow, dull eyes.

The open hanger doors at the other end of the building allowed a slight breeze to move around them and let out some of the heat they generated with their breath and laughter and pain.

Eliot's eyes followed the speck as it floated over toward Cheyenne and he saw her climb up to straddle Danny's lap, kissing his neck and chest. Eliot wondered distantly if they were going to fuck right there on the couch again, but the thought blew away with a slight gust of wind and he didn't really care.

Eliot let his head fall to the back of his armchair, suddenly too tired to hold it up anymore. Beside him Craig reached out and grabbed the blunt from his fingers before he could drop it on the floor, making a disgruntled face at him for nearly dropping it.

Eliot just laughed.

Craig rolled his eyes, then brought the same blunt to his lips and shifted in the lawn chair he was sitting on, smiling down at it when the drug started to float through his system again.

Anna set an empty beer down on the table beside three other cans and snatched the blunt from Craig's hands, who didn't even glance in her direction.

Eliot's eyes fell to Craig's lips, watching in fascination as they moved but didn't make a sound. A chuckle started low in his throat and suddenly Eliot was leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gasping for breath and wiping tears from his eyes as sound slowly returned.

"My cheeks hurt," he drawled, massaging his face. Across from him Anna cracked a smile.

He heard a zipper being done up and looked over to see Cheyenne scooting back over to her side of the couch, adjusting her skirt. Danny looked spent and relaxed, grinning at the ceiling.

"So all I'm saying is, I mean, the question is sort of 'what is truth' then, right?" Craig's voice floated past him, "I mean, is it, like, what we believe to be true? Because if I believe something is true, and you believe it's not…doesn't that mean we're both right? And we both have our own truth?"

"Shut the fuck up man," Eliot tossed an empty beer can in his general direction, "philosophy makes my head hurt."

"Hey guys, wanna play a game?" Danny asked from the other side of him. Eliot rolled his eyes, settling back in the chair and popping the tab on another beer.

"We ain't playin' Truth or Dare again. I just got rid of that poison ivy," Eliot frowned, "where's the chips?"

A pack of Cheetos landed in his lap and he sent a drunken smile to Anna, who rolled her eyes.

"I'm not talking about some stupid game like that, man," Danny assured him, then reached behind him into his backpack and pulled something shiny and silver out, "got this outta' the old man's office this morning."

Eliot, finding the blunt back between his fingers, lifted it to his lips and stared blankly at the revolver in Danny's hands.

"So? What's the game?" He asked, titling his head.

"You ever play Russian Roulette?" Danny asked, a sharp grin on his face.

"No man, no way."

Eliot looked over to see Craig shaking his head vigorously, then flailing out to catch himself as he started to sway, "no way Danny, that game is seriously fucked up."

"Quit being such a pussy Craig," Cheyenne rolled her eyes and smiled, "its fun. Such a rush."

"You're fucked."

"Damn straight." She sent a lewd grin to Danny and then sat up, grabbing the gun, "I'll go first."

She looked at the gun for a minute and then pushed out the cylinder and dumped out all of the bullets but one. She looked up, her eyes too bright as she looked around the circle, "ready?" she nodded gleefully and then stopped, "wait a second," she snatched the blunt from Anna and took a long drag.

"Okay," Cheyenne nodded, giving it back to Anna, "here we go." She gave the cylinder a good spin and when it stopped, held the barrel up to her temple. She pulled the trigger.

_Click. _

They all sagged with relief and Cheyenne doubled over laughing.

"Alright alright, my turn," Danny said, taking the gun from her trembling hands. He paused, hesitating, and glanced at Eliot with some sort of question in his eyes. Eliot shrugged, draining his beer.

"Here I go," Danny spun the cylinder, put the gun to his head and took a ragged breath. He blinked and his eyes hardened. He pulled the trigger.

_Click. _

Danny sighed and grinned, "Damn. Thought all my problems were solved there for a minute."

Eliot rolled his eyes, "you mean all of _our _problems." This renewed Cheyenne's laughter and Eliot grinned, even as the revolver was pushed into his hand.

"Hilarious," Danny said, humorlessly, "Your turn El."

Eliot's half lidded eyes slid from the gun to a pressure on his arm and saw someone's hand.

"Don't do it man, it's dangerous." Craig said, his hair mussed from running his hands through it.

Eliot gave him a dark grin, "so's driving down the street, but I don't see that stoppin' you."

It was a cruel joke and Eliot was disgusted at himself for laughing. If his mother had heard it she would have broke down crying. Maybe he was crying too. Eliot couldn't be sure.

He'd loved his father, he really had. He shouldn't make fun of that. But he couldn't help it. He said the stupidest shit when high.

The thought of his father's face alone was enough to make Eliot's hands move.

Spin. Catch. Pull.

_Click. _

Eliot opened his eyes, he didn't remember closing them, and found the rest of them staring at him.

"Still here." He announced, and tossed the gun to Craig. Who scrambled to catch it without dropping the blunt.

"Dammit Eliot!" He shrieked, red faced, "I'm not playing this stupid game."

"Just do it Craig!" Cheyenne shouted impatiently, looking a little pissed that he was delaying the game, absently braiding the ends of her hair together.

"Fuck you!" he shot back, glaring down at the gun.

A quiet voice broke the ensuing silence.

"It's a five in six chance nothing will happen, Craig. Just do it."

They all looked up, pretty sure that was the most words Anna had ever said at one time.

Craig looked at her incredulously. "You've played this before?"

Anna shrugged, readjusting the blunt in her fingers to take a puff. "Better than Chinese Roulette."

"How do you play that?" Craig rasped, blonde curls falling into his eyes.

Anna shrugged again, "Every time the gun doesn't go off you put another bullet in."

They all stared at her open mouthed. Cheyenne blinked and stole Danny's beer to take a swig.

"Even _I_ think that's fucked up."

Anna grinned. Eliot winced.

Craig shook his head, drawn back to the matter at hand by the gun in his hands, he took a deep breath.

"I hate all of you," he mumbled as he spun the cylinder. Slowly he lifted the small gun to his head, scrunching his eyes shut and holding his breath.

_Click. _

"Fuck," Craig whispered, letting out a long breath and slouching in his chair. Cheyenne was giggling again. Eliot blinked when he realized that rapid thumping he felt in his chest was his heart hammering. He sat back, hoping to alleviate some of the uncomfortable tension that had settled there and shook his hair out of his eyes.

"Anna's turn," Danny prompted, motioning with his chin.

Anna took one last swig of beer and then set it down. Five empties.

She reached over and took the gun, and without even a thought or hesitation, she spun the cylinder and pushed the gun into her mouth.

"Whoa whoa, what are you doing?" Craig exclaimed. Eliot narrowed his eyes and Cheyenne stopped laughing.

"That's not right," the other girl said slowly.

Anna pulled the gun out and gave them an odd look. "I'm pointing a loaded gun at myself. What the fuck does it matter if it's pointed at my temple or my brain stem?"

They silently agreed that it probably didn't matter much, but it was still unnerving. She put the gun back in her mouth. The room was silent. Craig had stopped fidgeting, Danny stopped muttering. Cheyenne stopped laughing and Eliot stopped relaxing.

His entire body tensed up and his eyes widened, as if suddenly sober.

Anna's huge and brown eyes locked with his. There was something haunted in them, something knowing.

Eliot caught his breath when he realized what it was.

Anna wasn't scared.

She closed her eyes.

"Anna wait-"

She pulled the trigger.

_Bang._

Anna's body spasmed and jerked, only to fall limply to one side.

Reality came crashing back into focus and suddenly everyone was sober.

"Holy shit!" Craig leapt up from his chair with such force he tumbled backwards over it. The others barely glanced in his direction. Eliot was immediately out of his chair and sprinting around to be beside Anna.

"Don't touch her!" Danny ordered. Beside him Cheyenne's eyes were wide, her jaw dropped open, staring unblinkingly at Anna's body.

"Oh my God," Eliot whispered, kneeling beside the girl. Her eyes were still open, the same look in them now that had been there a moment before, staring straight through him. Blood trickled out the corner of her mouth and down her cheek.

"Eliot!"

"What?" he whipped around to face Danny, rage painting his features.

"Don't touch her, man!"

"You want me to just leave her here?" Eliot growled, swallowing hard as the stench of blood and gunpowder mingled with marijuana and cheap beer. He might never eat again.

Danny didn't answer, but turned to look at Craig, who had his hands folded on top of his head, staring at Anna's body and muttering 'no no no no' repeatedly as tears ran down his cheeks.

"Craig," the boy's eyes snapped over to him, Danny's face startlingly determined and strong, "gimme a piece of paper."

Eliot stood and watched, confused as Craig hastily retrieved a notebook and handed it to Danny along with a pen. His eyes slipped to Cheyenne, who was sobbing quietly now, her face striped with black from her running mascara.

"What are you doing?" Eliot asked once, but when Danny ignored him he asked again, more forcefully, "hey, what the hell are you doing?"

"Saving all our asses," Danny stood up, ripping the piece of paper from the notebook and laying it on the small table that all the chairs were gathered round. He then went around to the other side of Anna and picked up the gun, hastily wiping off the handle and replacing it in the girl's hands, making sure to get her fingerprints in the right spot.

Eliot looked down at the paper.

_I'm so sorry, I can't go on like this anymore-_

Eliot looked up, furious, "a suicide note?" Danny straightened, satisfied with the way he'd arranged things, and looked up at Eliot for the first time just in time to see him step up and grab him by the collar, shoving him back several feet.

"Anna's dead because of your stupid game and you want to leave her here like this?" Eliot demanded, giving him a harsh shake.

Danny ripped his shirt from Eliot's grasp, pushing him back away from him with a hard shove, "_my _stupid game? I don't remember you putting up much of a fight. Besides, she's the one who pulled the trigger. Technically it _is _suicide."

Eliot's face was flushed, his breathing harsh as he shook his head, his blood boiling his stomach in knots, "it ain't right."

"Ain't right? No, you know what 'ain't right' cowboy? Me going to jail for stealing my dad's gun. It ain't right to ruin Craig's 4.0 and dreams of getting into a good college with some stupid game. And you? You think you'll ever get into the military with something like this on your record? How you gonna' make your dad proud then?"

Eliot pursed his lips, losing some of his fire as Danny talked. "What about _her _dad? He's never gonna believe she took her own life."

"You mean her upstanding Staff Sergeant father who beats the shit outta her and her ma' on a regular basis? I think he'll be able to put two and two together."

Eliot's hands curled into fists, "her daddy beat her? You knew about this?"

"Shit Eliot, everybody knows, there's nothing anybody can do about it."

"They could stop it!"

"No more than somebody coulda' stopped your dad from dying or my mom from leaving," Danny shot back; he pointed back toward Anna's body, "We just did her a favor."

Danny never even saw the punch coming, but suddenly he was on his back and Eliot was on top of him, pummeling him with panic and rage.

"Stop, stop it! Cut it out you guys!" Craig raced across the empty warehouse to them, trying to get a good enough hold on Eliot to pull them apart.

Eliot was having none of it, and neither Danny nor Craig were a match for his fury until Cheyenne's ear piercing scream ripped through the warehouse.

"Hey! Somebody's coming!"

Eliot stopped himself mid swing, and turned to look behind. Cheyenne was tearing across the warehouse toward them. Beyond her, through the open hanger doors they could see a dust cloud forming behind a regulation SUV as it sped toward them. Somebody was coming alright.

"Shit." Eliot mumbled, standing up off of Danny, who wasted no time in getting up to run toward the back door, paying no attention to his bleeding nose for the time being. Cheyenne didn't even slow down as she passed them, following right behind.

"C'mon man, we gotta go!" Craig urged, pulling Eliot's shirt insistently a few times before taking off.

Eliot stayed frozen for a minute, eyes locked on the approaching vehicle.

"Eliot _c'mon_!"

The last shout broke him out of his trance and throwing one more glance at Anna's body, he whispered, "I'm sorry," then turned tail and ran, full out for the doors.

By the time he got home the news of the scene found at the warehouse had already been related back to the base offices and subsequently spread through the grapevine.

His momma sat at the kitchen table, eyes red rimmed from crying and she hastily wiped her face when she saw him come in the back door.

Eliot stood, shoulders hunched, head bowed to stare at the white linoleum floor as she slowly stood up from the table and walked toward him. He saw her shoes, small and sensible black pumps come to stand toe to toe with his heavy brown boots, and drug his eyes up to meet hers.

The unexpected slap to his face sent his mind reeling and his head snapping to the side.

Slowly, he turned back to look at her.

She covered her mouth with one hand when she saw the tears threatening to overflow in his eyes. She'd been looking into those dark blue eyes for seventeen years and had never seen what she saw now.

Pain, heartache, grief, confusion, fear. But no anger.

She'd expected anger.

"Oh Eliot," she whispered through her trembling fingers, suddenly fighting tears, "I miss him too, baby."

Eliot's face crumpled and he bowed forward, laying his head against his mother's shoulder as the first sobs claimed him. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and rubbed circles on his back.

"Let it out, son. I'm so sorry."

---

-**Epilogue**-

It turned out that their cover-up was not much of a cover-up at all. Danny's handwriting looked nothing like Anna's, not that the motive behind her suicide had been questioned. The bruises were proof enough of that. But the revolver belonged to Danny's father, and the bullet had Danny's fingerprint and before long, the whole story had come out.

They admitted to drinking and smoking together. Admitted to willingly playing a game of Russian Roulette. A game Anna had lost.

Danny got ten years for First Degree Manslaughter and theft. The only charges to stick against the others were Minor in Possession and Underage drinking. One year of probation and a $500 fine later and they had all walked away.

Craig never got the chance to go to that Ivy League school he always wanted. Cheyenne finally got her parents to come home, only to have her probation traded in for military school and was never heard from again.

And then there was Eliot. Eliot adjusted, Eliot moved on, he paid his dues and he cleaned up.

But he never forgot.

And every year on April 5th Eliot returned to that Army base and laid a small glass butterfly on the ground by Anna Spencer's headstone, shedding a tear and whispering an apology for the girl with the pale face and big eyes who didn't have to die.

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_END__ - Thanks for reading. I've never written anything like this before so I'd love to hear your feedback :)  
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